Pax Grey and the Prisoner of Azkaban
by Larry1710
Summary: Pax is over her head! To get the work experience she needs to be a Daily Prophet journalist, she needs to work at Hogwarts for a year. She has to deal with Snape humiliating her, Remus baffling her and there is a murderer on the prowl. Great.


**Pax Grey and the Prisoner of Azkaban**

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_The Daily Prophet HQ_

_-_

To say it was not going well would be an understatement.

"Miss Grey, I am surprised and annoyed that you even bother to apply for the position of junior copywriter. You have no experience-"

"That's not true! I have experience, I told you-"

"Working for a Muggle newspaper is not experience-"

"I don't see why not! It's the same basic principle. I can write, obviously-"

"And then, Miss Grey, there is the matter of your complete lack of qualifications," he said firmly. "Well?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow and waiting for her to argue with him.

It was a losing battle. Sitting across from Jeremy Buckle, in the Daily Prophet offices, Pax Grey sighed heavily and studied the man in front of her. Buckle was a good journalist and he was a better editor, and Pax would have loved to have worked for the Prophet, just being in the offices made her as excited as a small child in Honeydukes. There was something about newspaper rooms, the noise, the business, the piles of papers almost toppling, the journalists writing manically and paper planes whizzing about the place. Buckle's office was in the middle of the office, a circular room made of glass, so that he could see everything going on. Maybe that's what attracted Pax to journalism; the ever changing activity and industry. The intense journalists, whose clever minds were ticking behind their cynical and savvy faces, Buckle looked, in every way, the epitome of a newspaper editor; tired but sharp blue eyes, messy brown hair, shirt sleeves rolled up and ink and nicotine stained long fingers. He was not impressed enough by her to overlook the fact that she had no qualifications at all, not even one measly OWL.

"Right. So, taking into account that I have no qualifications at all, what would kind of experience would it take for me to get any sort of decent position here?" asked Pax, completely unfazed.

Buckle smiled, leaned back in his chair and wiped his hand over his rather stubbly chin, pensively gazing at her. "You would need to get a reference from Dumbledore," he said smugly. "Good luck with that."

Pax met his gaze levelly and smiled. "Easy. I'll reapply in a year with a reference from Dumbledore."

Buckle laughed sneeringly at her as she stood up and saw herself out of his office. Poor deluded girl, he thought.

Pax walked out of the office and into the streets of London, wondering who Dumbledore was.

* * *

Pax felt terribly old walking along Diagon Alley, which was bursting with loud, screaming, happy school kids, who were apparently desperate to go back to school and were happy to be dragging their parents around the various shops. Some new students were nervous holding their new textbooks and looking fearfully at the older students, who were busy embracing each other and talking about Quidditch scores, holidays, romances and the like. Other shoppers dodged the school kids with resigned looks on their faces. If they weren't running around screaming blue murder, then they were congregating outside shops, holding everyone up. The Quidditch shop, in particular, seemed to inspire particular admiration, a group of twenty kids at any one time stood at the window, hungrily and wistfully gazing at the Firebolt, salivating. Pax smiled, feeling slightly nostalgic and squeezed through the throngs of people into Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore.

Pax quickly fell in love with the bookstore; filled to the brim with brightly coloured novels, dusty aging tomes, and stacks and stacks of parchments. The walls were covered with bookcases and a ladder ran round the room, which was covered in mismatched tables, which in turn, were covered with an eclectic mix of books. Some new and shiny textbooks were on the left wall, which proclaimed HOGWARTS and there were several reading list pinned to the wall. Pax could see Transfiguration textbooks, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Potions, everything.

If she didn't find what she was looking for soon, she would spend the whole day in here, just going from book to book in a daze. The smell of the room was typical of a place with many, many books; it smelt of learning, of knowledge, of books. It reminded her of being read bedtime stories by her father when she was a child, the crisp yellowing pages being carefully turned and Pax star struck by the moving pictures and the mesmerising stories. She shook the memory out of her head and looked around the bookstore. It was rather Victorian, she thought, what with the creaky mahogany floorboards and the dim lighting...hovering candles, dripping wax all over the floor. Hmm, thought Pax, that's a bit pretentious, it's only two in the afternoon and it's very bright and warm outside.

She moved towards the counter, past a red-headed teenager, reading a book about "The Mysterious Link Between Knowledge and Power" and stepped over a smaller younger red head, this time a girl, who was reading a beauty book. The woman behind the counter was sitting on a stool, her nose in a ledger. She had sleek dark hair and very pale skin, her eyes large and luminous and a beaky nose. She looked rather like a penguin.

"Good afternoon!" greeted Pax, perhaps a bit too loudly in the bookstore where everyone else was speaking in hushed whispers, if they were speaking at all. "I'm looking for a book about Dumbledore."

The woman's eyes snapped up and blinked at her. "Of course! Of course! What would you like? A book about his defeat of Grindleward in the war? A book about his headmastership? A biography? A book about his research into dragon's blood, or phoenix tears, or the philosopher's stone? A book WRITTEN by him? A Transfiguration textbook? A book about Muggle studies? Or perhaps a collection of the numerous newspaper articles written about him? Or perhaps a collection of the articles HE has written for various newspapers or journals, or maybe a critique of his policies-"

"Whoa!" said Pax, who had started to laugh. This woman, who was in deadly earnest, had not stopped for breath in her entire monologue and despite looking so timid and shy, had spoken to quickly and seriously. "How about a biography? Something recent?"

Despite Pax cutting of her speech, the woman beamed up at her, slid of her stool and waddled quickly over to Pax.

"I have just the thing!" she announced proudly. Pax smiled at her enthusiasm. The woman scooted off, reminding Pax even more heavily of a penguin, the short dark figure waddling off into the distance. She started weaving her way through the tables and bookshelves, past many customers engrossed in their books. She moved very fast for such a short person with even shorter legs. Pax had much longer legs and could easily keep up with her and gazed around curiously. One book, with TIME TO TANGO emblazoned on the front in scarlet shiny letters, had spindly paper arms and legs, and was attempting to waltz with a much smaller and thinner book (without arms or legs, so the TIME TO TANGO book was really just hugging the smaller book to itself while dancing around, but nevertheless, it was very cute) on top of a table. Despite not having any eyes to see where it was going and it was on top of a table that had uneven piles of books on it, the waltzing book was doing a surprisingly impressive waltz. When it strode too near the edge, Pax pushed it back towards the middle of the table. A young child was leaning on the table and looking at the two books dancing with fervent eyes. Pax giggled and caught the eye of an older man, who was also looking at the two books. He scowled at her and she started. His obsidian eyes sent goose pimples up his arms and she quickly looked away and caught up with the woman.

"Have you met him?" asked Pax, slightly out of curiosity, slightly out of a desire to make conversation and forget the man with the black eyes and slightly out of the need for information.

"Oh yes!" said the woman. "Several times! He was the Headmaster when I went to Hogwarts, still is, of course," she elaborated. Then, surprised, she stopped and turned around to look at Pax. "Haven't you? Surely you've just graduated from Hogwarts yourself?" she asked.

Pax laughed. "It's been a few years," she corrected, "But no, I never went to Hogwarts," seeing the confusion on the woman's face, she continued, "This is the first time I've been in Britain...my parents are British, but I grew up abroad."

"Ah," said the woman, "Beauxbatons. I did wonder, you are very stylish." Satisfied, she turned around and sped off again.

Pax was slightly bemused. She was aware of Beauxbatons, the French all girls school where most European witches went, which had a reputation for putting a lot of emphasis on style and fashion. Surely France didn't have the monopoly on style though? Were British people not stylish? Her musings were cut short as the woman ran off again. Perhaps that was a good thing, Pax thought, as she didn't have the patience to explain her patchy education twice in one day. Being interviewed by a journalist was exasperating enough. It was best if the woman assumed she went to Beauxbatons.

The woman finally stopped in the far corner of the shop, where a gold plaque declared it was the ALBUS DUMBLEDORE SECTION. For one man, Pax thought, he certainly had racked up a rather impressive amount of books. The penguin lady climbed two steps up the ladder to pick out a lime green book called "ALBUS - the A - Z" and handed it to Pax. It was surprisingly heavy for such a slim book and it had a picture of the man himself on the front cover.

He seemed fairly innocuous. Typical wise old man, looks a bit like Merlin, long beard, twinkly and kind eyes, long nose etc. Pax immediately thought that he was anything but harmless, as nothing is as it seems in the world of magic. She opened the book, to find tiny green writing swirling around diagrams, cartoons, pictures and newspaper clippings.

"I'll take it."

* * *

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

My name is Pax Grey and I am twenty-two years old. I would like to apply for work experience at your school, Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, in whatever capacity you choose. I have no wizarding qualifications whatsoever. However, I do have a lot of experience with children and teenagers, as I have spent time teaching English as a foreign language. I have contributed to many Muggle newspapers. I have had a patchy Magical education, but I am autodidact and very capable at magic. I can speak French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic and Russian and I am a hard worker and rather desperate for some work experience. I know that I am a little late in requesting this, as the school year has almost begun, but I hope that will give me a chance.

Magically yours,

Pax Grey

* * *

Dear Mr Grey,

I am very glad you wrote me and nothing is ever too late, as I'm sure you'll agree. If you could find time to meet me at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon at 3 p.m. I would like to conduct an interview with you.

Looking forward to meeting with you,

Best Wishes,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

* * *

Pax was so excited, she turned up three hours early and moseyed around the village, marvelling at the fact this was the only all magical village in Britain. Of course, she had been to many all magical villages in Europe and Asia, but they weren't British, they weren't in Scotland and they weren't near Hogwarts. So it was a huge novelty and rather amazing.

Well, she thought, looking around. It was okay. It was rather quaint and looked pretty much like any other British village. The shops were quite cool, she thought, but nothing that you couldn't find in Paris or Berlin, or even London. Still, she thought as she leaned over the fence and watched the Shrieking Shack, it was something. At some point in time, her father had been here. She wondered why it had taken her so long to come here...maybe Dumbledore knew her father, maybe he could tell her more about her father than her mother was willing to. Maybe not though, after all, hundreds of students passed through Hogwarts hall every year and it wasn't fair to expect the headmaster to remember every single one. If Dumbledore was even the headmaster when her father was at Hogwarts.

Still, it was very decent of Dumbledore to agree to see her, and the very next day, too! Even if Dumbledore had thought she was a man...which to be fair, most people did, as they were confused by her rather masculine name. She liked that many people mistook her name for a man's, it usually lead to hilarity (if only for Pax, the confused were usually embarrassed). It was a calm sunny day, with a slight breeze and the village was relaxed and quiet. She had a quick lunch in the Three Broomsticks and silently prepared what she was going to say to Dumbledore that would impress him so much he would agree to give her some work experience.

"Job interview?" asked the bartender. Pax looked up.

"How did you guess?" she asked the woman. The woman threw back her head a laughed, she was a jolly sort of person, in her early forties and rosy looking, ringlets messily tied back.

"The headmaster always conducts his interviews in our pubs and the people always look terrified," she explained. Pax took a sip of her orange juice. She had been tempted to buy butterbeer but wasn't taking any chances.

"I'm not terrified. Just a little nervous," Pax was quick to point out. The bartender picked up a glass and started polishing it with a cloth...Pax knew she was in for some advice.

"You should be. Teachers for that post never last more than a year. It's cursed, for sure," she was told.

"Oh," said Pax, "I'm not a teacher. I'm just looking for a little bit of work experience," she explained. "What post?"

The woman looked at her. "I don't recognise you and you're young enough. You're not from around here, are you?"

Pax sighed. The wizarding community in Britain was quite small so she supposed she should get used to this question, especially as she wanted to live there. "No, not really. My parents travelled a lot, so I grew up mainly in Europe, but they were both British."

"Ah," said the bartender. "My name's Rosmerta."

"Pax," she introduced.

"Unusual name," said Rosmerta, "I've not heard that one before."

"It means peace in Latin," explained Pax, "My mother likes stuff like that."

"So did your parents go to Hogwarts, then?" asked Rosmerta, "Let's see, Grey, hmm I don't think I know anyone called Grey..."

"My dad went to Hogwarts," said Pax, "He was in Ravenclaw, class of 1968. He was called Richard Grey. My mother didn't go to Hogwarts though."

"Hmmm Rich Grey! Of course I remember him, very good looking, prefect, I think. Very charming young man, I think, he was a few years younger than me at school. I didn't know him very well, but he was very clever. Didn't get into a lot of trouble," Rosmerta reminisced. Pax smiled, that seemed like her father.

The clock on the wall chimed three and Pax jumped. "I'm just going to check my appearance in the bathroom," she told Rosmerta, slightly nervously, "If Professor Dumbledore comes in, tell him I won't be two minutes, will you?" she asked.

"Will do, Pax," said Rosmerta, smiling. Pax jumped off her seat and quickly walked over to the ladies bathroom. She looked at her reflection.

She was slightly pale but no one would be able to tell as she was quite tanned. She smoothed back her hair, then wondered if her messy bun was a bit too austere. She bit her lip and her fringe fell into her eyes again. She checked she hadn't spilt anything on her white shirt and pulled her black jeans up a bit, not wanting to flash a bit of her stomach to the famous wizard. Pax checked her teeth, they were fine, no spinach and tentatively smiled at her reflection.

"I will be fine," she told herself. "It's nothing to worry about. Easy as cake."

She walked out of the bathroom and saw a very old man, dressed in a velvety blue robe, sitting on her bar stool; Albus Dumbledore. He was chatting with Rosmerta. Pax breathed in and out and strode over to him.

"Good afternoon, Professor," she said, he turned around in surprise, "Thank you for meeting with me."

"It is a pleasure, Miss Grey," he said, his eyes twinkling. Pax smiled. "It's not often that I make a mistake so basic, but in my defence, Pax is a very masculine sounding name," he said.

"Perhaps," said Pax, "But the meaning, peace, is more feminine, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I have been fooled. Let us retire to one the rooms upstairs where we can talk."

This was how Pax Grey found herself sipping tea with Albus Dumbledore, discussing her family history in Hogsmeade in August, 1993. Of course, it had occurred to her that it wasn't merely the request of work experience that had precipitated Dumbledore wanting to meet with her. After all, he was (probably) the most powerful wizard of this age and surely had hundreds of letters with similar requests. He wanted to know who she was and perhaps, what had happened to Richard Grey.

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Well, what do you think?


End file.
